


Divine Intervention

by Tarlan



Category: Sliders, Vertical Limit (2000)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-17
Updated: 2004-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-19 02:50:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan discovers the difference between the two dimensions may offer him a second chance at happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divine Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set directly after the episode _Into the Mystic_ and is in a Sliders Alternate Universe so not everything in Vertical Limit will be the same.  
>  Many thanks to Pic who foolishly agreed to give this story a once over -thank you. This story is ten times better because of your help.

From a safe distance, Ryan watched unseen as Wade and the others jumped into the rippling air created by the strange wormhole effect. Quinn Mallory was the last to jump and Ryan saw him hesitate briefly before taking that plunge into the unknown. As the wormhole snapped closed behind the Slider, Ryan's own attention was drawn to the strange man who had apparently caught Quinn's eye. The man had been raking leaves nearby but he had set his rake aside, pushed back the cowboy hat from his head and was laughing, completely unperturbed by the amazing sight that had been before him moments earlier. It was incongruity enough to warrant closer inspection.

Ryan approached the man quietly and stopped a few feet away. He was about to clear his throat to gain the man's attention, not wanting to scare him, when the man looked directly at him and gave Ryan a soft smile.

"Nice lady, that Wade Wells... but you don't belong with her. You're already spoken for, Ryan Simms."

"How... How do you know my name?"

The man grinned, eyes dancing with the light of inner knowledge, and Ryan felt stupid. No doubt, the man had overheard it from one of the others before they jumped. He shook aside his embarrassment and started to walk away, annoyance adding a hard edge to his step, when he realized what else the man had said. Ryan turned back to find the man still leaning on the rake and watching him with a knowing look on his thin face.

"What did you mean? About where I belong."

"All things happen for a reason. I took them to you for a reason, I brought you all here for that same reason."

"You? And that reason is?"

"Restoring the balance."

"Balance? The balance of what?"

"Worlds, universes... souls... more to it than just physics."

"Who are you?"

The man gave Ryan another grin, then turned and walked away. Ryan looked away for a moment, confused and annoyed by the cryptic remarks, wanting to reorder his thoughts so he could tackle this evasive man once more, but when he turned back the man had gone.

"What the..?"

He spun in all directions but there was no sign of the strange man, and no place in the open stretch of parkland where he could have hidden. He stared as the tiny pile of raked leaves began to disappear; the gentle breeze lifting each leaf in turn and sending it dancing away until there was nothing left. With a deep sigh, Ryan ran both hands through the long strands that had flopped into his eyes, pushing them back from his forehead. He glanced around one more time and realized there was nothing to be gained from standing there alone so he readjusted the small backpack over his shoulders and walked away in the opposite direction, letting the cryptic words circle around in his head.

As he made his way down the road, his feet kicked up the golden leaves that had been swept to the edges. Autumn had come very early to this new dimension, giving the world a glow of vibrant red, gold and russet brown intermingled with the yellow and green of the tall rye grasses that grew wild and free on either side of the road. The autumn air was clean, fresh and warm from the late morning sun that still hung big and ripe in the clear blue sky. Ryan took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweetness, savoring the fact that he was still alive to enjoy this beautiful day.

He stopped, a wide grin stretching across his face. He was alive and this was a whole new world for him to explore. The smile faded as a pang of guilt flowed through him. He had spent so much of the past year courting death that it seemed strange for him to now be embracing life. Ryan sighed. Maybe he had needed to face imminent death for him to realize how close he had come to breaking his word.

"And this is what you wanted... isn't it?" Ryan asked aloud. "You wanted me to live... wanted me to go on. You made me promise to go on. Without you."

His last words came out as a whisper as images of the past came back to haunt him; the sensuous touch of warm flesh against his own, of strong arms wrapped around him, holding him, loving him. A mouth so similar to his own, with lips ripe from passionate kisses shared, descended to pay homage to his body, licking, biting, softly teasing his aching flesh before drawing him deeply inside. Moans of appreciation vibrated along his hardened shaft, sending licks of energy darting along his nerves, his vision becoming unfocused as his fingers tried to grasp the short strands of dark hair, desperate to hold his lover's head in place.

The image faded to white; his sight dimmed through snow blindness, muscles tensed against the pull of gravity on the body suspended far below him, held to his own by a lifeline of thin rope. His fingers were cold and unresponsive as he clutched, desperately, to the ice pick, knowing it was all that prevented both of them from falling to their deaths.

The sound of a car approaching pulled his attention back to the present time in this new world and, moments later, the car pulled up alongside.

"Hey buddy. Need a lift?"

"Sure."

Ryan scrambled into the passenger seat and let the driver's chatter take him away from the memories that still threatened to overwhelm him, allowing the golden glow of autumn leaves replace the bleakness of a snow-capped mountain.

-ooOOoo-

The town was bustling with people going about their business, completely unaware of the new arrival who walked among them but then, this world seemed so similar to his own universe that he wondered where the differences might lie. The first indication came soon enough when he watched a couple of youth's snatch a lady's purse and dash off. He was too far away to be of any assistance, but he filed the warning safely away in his head that this was not as peaceful a dimension as was his own. It made sense to check out other differences, and the easiest way to do it would be to buy a newspaper or go to the local library.

Already aware that none of the small amount of money he had carried through the wormhole was valid currency in this dimension, the library was clearly the better option.

Ryan selected a newspaper and took a seat in a quiet corner, his eyes widening as he read of the horrors taking place in this over populated world. The population control in his own dimension took on a whole new meaning as he realized the privileges he had taken for granted. In comparison, this world was full of poor and starving people, with wars being fought over what land and food was available. He pursed his lips in dismay and was about to turn the page when the librarian approached.

"A gentleman informed me that you are waiting for this periodical."

"He must have made some mistake, I..."

A glimpse of the cover was enough to halt his words, his heart lurching in his chest as a background figure in the cover photograph leaped out from amongst the others.

"I have to ask... Is that you?"

"What? No--"

"Oh, you could almost be twins--"

"Which gentleman?"

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"The gentleman who asked you to--"

"He's right over... Oh. Well, he was there but he seems to have gone. Anyway, if you'll excuse me. I have work to do."

Ryan watched her walk away then gazed around the interior of the library. Eventually, he realized he was avoiding looking at the picture on the front of the magazine. With a hard swallow, Ryan looked down, his finger tracing across the familiar form, trying to remember when this photo was taken.

"K2?" Ryan read aloud the headline on the photo. "Billionaire Elliot Vaughn takes on K2."

He frowned at the familiar name. Vaughn was a climbing enthusiast in his own dimension, and a rich man, but Ryan couldn't remember any mention of a K2 expedition. He started leafing through the pages searching for the article inside, hoping it would provide the answers to his questions. A tapping on the glass brought his head up and he found himself face to face with the man from the park, separated only by the sheet of glass. The man gave him a thumbs up sign, rose back to his feet and started to walk away.

"Hey, wait!"

Ryan banged on the glass, ignoring the annoyed murmuring of the other library occupants, and when the man continued walking off without a single glance back, Ryan raced to the nearest exit. By the time he reached the street the man had disappeared once more.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you may not remove periodicals from the library."

Ryan looked down at the magazine still clutched in his hand. He gave one last glance along the street then stepped back inside the library, retaking his seat by the window. Ryan shook his head, even more confused than he had been in the park, then re-opened the magazine. He found the article and began to read, his heart pounding in his chest when he realized this was not some old news rehashed but a current event. His finger caressed a single name that seemed to stand out from the rest of the words: Tom McLaren.

"Tom."

Ryan's thoughts flashed back to the first day they met....

"Tom! Tom! Hey, Tom. Looking good. Like the hair."

"Sorry?" Ryan looked over his shoulder then back at the older, unfamiliar man who was approaching him. Ryan flicked his eyes around, half-believing the man was calling to someone else. "Are you talking to me?"

The man laughed, a pleasant booming sound. He stopped right in front of Ryan and slapped him hard on the back. "Jeez. What a joker. Mike's hanging around over there."

The arm remained around his shoulders and Ryan felt himself being steered through the crowded lounge by the far stronger man, too bemused to make much of a fuss.

"Hey, everyone. Look who I found lurking..."

The friendly voice trailed off but Ryan barely noticed, his attention taken completely by another man who had turned to greet the new arrivals. Ryan was stunned. It was like looking into a mirror, one that showed him what he might look like maybe six or seven years in the future. The doppelganger's hair was cropped short on the back and sides, graying slightly at the temples in a way that only served to make the man more distinguished. The top was slightly longer but still only an inch or so in length, and it was a darker shade than his own; sable to his gold and mahogany. The man's eyes were a similar shade of green, but there were a few more lines around them, attesting to someone who laughed a lot more. Ryan was treated to a megawatt smile, and seeing this strange reflection aimed towards him made him realize the true impact of his own smile on others. It was stunning, sending a bolt of warmth coiling through his belly and groin.

When the man spoke, even the voice was similar, just a little more gravelly, a little more worn from life, but the huskiness crept over Ryan, sinking into his soul and sending his body murmuring in further approval. Ryan almost missed the words as, suddenly, he recognized the uncomfortable narcissistic feelings flowing over him as he looked at this doppelganger.

"They say everyone has a twin... guess you're mine."

A hand was thrust out, long fingers so like his own. Ryan regathered his straying thoughts and reached out in return, clasping a hand that was slightly coarser, the nails more ragged as if the owner had a tendency to nibble on them.

"Got a name, twin?"

"Ryan. Ryan Simms... and you are?"

"Tom McLaren." Tom frowned, the lines on his face deepening above the bridge of his nose. "You the same Simms who climbed Aconcagua?"

Ryan grinned, pleased that this man seemed to know of him. He, of course, had heard of Tom McLaren. Who hadn't. The man had climbed several of the highest peaks in the Himalayas including Everest, although, as far as Ryan was aware, McLaren had yet to reach the summit of K2.

"If memory serves me correct, you paddled up the Amazon, took a boat from Ecuador to Valparaiso, hiked across Chile into Argentina and climbed Aconcagua with just Argentinean guides for company."

Ryan found himself a little embarrassed but was spared having to respond when the others started debating the merits of Aconcagua against the peaks of the Himalayas. He listened for a moment then looked back to find Tom's appraising eyes still fixed upon him.

"Sorry for staring," Tom said. "Can't get over how much alike we look... and having the same love of mountain climbing." Tom grinned. "Though I've never entertained any thoughts of tracking the Amazon to its source or crossing a desert. Doesn't appeal in the slightest." Tom glanced back at his friends and colleagues who were now arguing animatedly. Tom tilted his head. "There's a quiet corner over there."

Ryan felt his cheeks burn as his mind supplied innuendos, remembering the pick-up lines he had used on others in the past. He licked suddenly dry lips and nodded once, following Tom across the crowded lounge to that quiet corner. They sank down into the comfortable chairs, each appraising the other thoughtfully....

Ryan frowned as his thoughts came back to the present. He still had no idea when the small talk had become sex talk, when the casual touches had become intimate gestures. They had made their way from the lounge in silent agreement, no words passing between them until after they had reached Tom's hotel room....

If Ryan had ever wondered what it would be like to make love to himself, he now had a partial answer, except all similarity ended with their physical bodies. Tom was a gentle lover; warm, considerate and obviously well versed in the art of seducing men. His experienced touch sent licks of desire flicking through Ryan's body like wildfire, the soft words and moans of pleasure fanning the flames of their spiraling passion. Ryan watched as a hand that was his - and yet not his - wrapped itself around his burning flesh, the thumb stroking over the sensitive head. His own moans and cries had filled the air as Tom's tongue darted out to lap up the dewdrops of precome, teasing along the slit and pressing against that sensitive place. The sable hair was so soft but too short as Ryan tried to grasp at the silky strands. Instead, his fingers carded through the sable to cup the back of Tom's head. More touches, more caresses of Tom's fine fingers along his heated flesh had him begging softly.

A voice, husky with desire and yet a little tense seemed to envelope Ryan, echoing his earlier thoughts.

"Ever wondered what it was like... to make love to yourself?"

Ryan gasped as Tom's fingers stroked along his hardened shaft. His own hand had never felt this good.

"Yes... but this... this isn't it. This is... oooh... far better."

Tom grinned, looking pleased at his response and Ryan could understand why. This body, so like his own, was filled with a different spirit, alive with a different soul. Ryan pushed Tom's hand aside and pulled the older man up beside him. He fell into the liquid green pools of desire, seeing his own reflection in the similar features but drowning in Tom's enlarged pupils. Ryan's fingers stroked the length of the slightly stubbled jaw, played across the luscious mouth, tracing the curve of parted lips, and he sighed as Tom took his wrist to stop him from pulling his hand away, then suckled on each finger in turn.

The first brush of lips upon lips was electric, the desire arrowing straight into Ryan's already straining flesh, warming him from the inside out. Ryan groaned as they rocked together, hips upon hips, shafts bumping and sliding on sweat-slicked skin. He met Tom thrust for thrust, of tongue, of hips. A warm sensation coiled in his belly, radiating outwards, the intensity driving him harder against the firm body above him. His muffled cry of pleasure was captured, their lips sealed together in a hard kiss, and moments later, he retook his own sobs from the man who thrashed in ecstasy against him....

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut tightly, hating the prickling feel of tears that threatened to fall. That first time had been one of exploration and intrigue, wondering at the similarities and seeking out the differences between them. Neither of them had expected it to be more and yet they had spent the next two years living and loving together... and planning that ultimate climb.

One of the first major differences Ryan noticed was that Tom confined his risks strictly to the mountains, and even then he was the consummate professional on the slopes. He let other people provide the money needed to finance the expeditions, let them take all the risks with the Lottery if need be, while he provided his services as a guide in return. The Tom McLaren of his dimension had no intention of making way, of dying, in such a civilized fashion. If he had to die, it wouldn't happen in some five-star bedroom at the Lottery Commission. He had no intention of eating cyanide - or whatever it was that they gave the 'lucky' winners. If he had to die before old age claimed him then it would be out in the world, doing what he loved best.

"If he had to die..."

Ryan choked on the softly whispered words as the image of Tom hanging on the end of a rope over the crevasse came back to haunt him. He could hear Tom pleading with him to cut the rope, pleading with him to *live*. His body twinged in remembrance of the crippling agony, the strain of trying to hold onto Tom, feeling himself slipping, inch by inch, over the edge of the crevasse as the ice pick dragged against the weight of two bodies. When the rope had gone slack Ryan had screamed in grief, he had pulled himself back up onto the lip of the crevasse then tore at the rope, dragging it up until he found the raggedly severed end. Tom had done what he could not do. Tom had cut the rope and sent himself plummeting to his death, killing Ryan just as surely but far more slowly. It had not occurred to him that, in this dimension, Tom might have lived. Perhaps they had never made that fatal expedition up Everest. Perhaps they had never even met.

"I want to see him. Just one more time."

The threatened tears fell, and he scrubbed them away with the back of his hand.

"Are you okay, sir."

"Yes. I'm fine." Ryan cleared his throat, giving the concerned librarian a weak smile. "Could I take a copy of this article?"

"Certainly, sir. The photocopier's this way."

-ooOOoo-

The first problem hit Ryan almost immediately. Unlike within his own dimension, there was no Lottery cash point to which he could turn to request the money he needed to both equip himself and get him to the base camp at K2. He ran a hand through the long strands of sun-streaked hair, pushing them back from where they flopped over his forehead once more. The habitual gesture reminded him of Tom, the way he would laugh and tell Ryan to go get a hair cut. Ryan let the memory slip away, turning his attention back to the present. He realized there was a more immediate problem. Without money he had nowhere to sleep either, and no way to buy food. His respect for Quinn Mallory and the other Sliders increased as he wondered how they faced this same problem every single time they jumped through the wormhole to a new dimension.

"Hell, if they can do this, so can I."

"Tom?"

Ryan turned on his heel and found himself face to face with Martin Hilton, the bear of a man who had introduced him to Tom in his own dimension. Hilton reached forward and gripped Ryan's upper arms tightly, and Ryan felt momentary concern when Hilton's face went from a healthy pink to a deathly white.

"Ryan?" The hands held his biceps in a bruising grip. "Damn it, Ryan. I thought you were dead. Tom said you were dead but wouldn't say anymore. Thought he meant literally, not figuratively. Damn! What the hell happened between you two?"

"He said I died?"

"Up on Everest. When you never came back down with him, I figured he meant it literally." Ryan watched as anger replaced shock. "What did you do? Climb down the other side and hitchhike home? Hell. Must have been one doozy of an argument you boys had up on that mountain. Why didn't you get in touch? Why didn't you let me know you were alive?"

Ryan bit down on his lower lip, now aware of this Ryan's fate. He thought about his own ascent with Tom, how they had gone for the summit alone, sending the rest of the party back to the base camp. Tom had died on the way back down, leaving Ryan alone to shoulder the heavy burden of knowing that, if Martin and Mike had stayed with them, then Tom might have lived. He interrupted the angry tirade.

"I just read this." Ryan showed Martin the article. "Surprised you're not with him."

Martin scowled and Ryan watched as the man, visibly, pushed aside his anger at Ryan to look down at the paper that had been thrust towards him. Martin's expression hardened as he looked back up.

"Haven't climbed since losing Mike. Christ! You might not know about that. He went up with Vaughn on his attempt on Pobedy Peak... never came back. Just Vaughn all by his lonesome, concocting some story about Mike falling, but it didn't ring true... but there wasn't any way to prove otherwise."

"Sorry about your brother, Martin. I liked him."

"Yeah." Martin grimaced, looking away with a suspicious brightness in his eyes. He looked back, his emotions held tightly in check once more. "So, where have you been this last year or so? Crossing more deserts?"

"I need to get to K2, Martin."

Martin stared hard but Ryan didn't flinch. Relief flooded him when Martin sighed deeply then nodded in agreement.

"I warned him not to work with Vaughn. Don't trust that bastard. He didn't get to be a billionaire through caring about others... and Tom's been taking far too many risks since you and he went your separate ways... like he's got a death wish but is too proud to do the job himself. A bad combination, makes for poor judgment all round."

"What about the other climber, Annie Garrett?"

"She's another one with a chip on her shoulder... wanting to prove herself. Her father was Royce Garrett. You must have heard of Royce?"

"Yeah. A good man."

"Look. No point standing out here. If we're going to K2 then we'd best get moving. There's not that great a window of opportunity left for climbing this season and, from what I hear, Vaughn's pushing hard, blaming Tom for being too cautious... so Tom's gonna go for the summit first chance they get."

-ooOOoo-

As he stared out of the small airplane window at the clouds below, Ryan let his thoughts dwell on the strange coincidence that Martin Hilton should find him at that exact moment when he needed him the most. He sighed, but then was that any more strange than the other incidences that had surrounded him since the day he prepared himself for his death, courtesy of the Lottery Commission?

What had that weird man told him? That he had arranged for Wade to find him, that he had brought them all to this dimension... that he had wanted to restore the balance. What balance?

Other thoughts assailed him.

If Tom had been speaking literally, then the Ryan Simms of this dimension had died on Everest. How? Had Ryan been the one to step into the hidden crevasse? Had this Ryan cut the rope to save Tom's life? Had he given his own life to prevent Tom from falling with him?

The one thing Ryan knew for certain was that there had been a close relationship between them but he had balked at asking Martin the true depth. Were this Ryan and Tom just friends, comrades-in-risk and climbing partners? Or had they been closer still, as in his own dimension? Had they been lovers? Had the Ryan Simms of this world met Tom in that same lounge? Had they spent a single night together that never ended until a knife sliced through a rope?

"I need to know, Martin. What brought you to San Francisco?"

Martin shook his head, obviously still stunned by the unexpected encounter.

"Funniest thing. Got a message that a client wanted to see me but when I arrived he didn't have a clue. Next thing, I'm stepping out of his office onto the street... and there you were."

Ryan sat back to ponder over this, wondering if that strange man had something to do with Martin's mystery, but any further deliberation was halted when Martin reached over and tapped him on the forearm, pointing to sign that indicated seat belts were to be worn. He gave Martin a tight smile and strapped himself in. The plane began to shudder as it made its final descent and Ryan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The first leg of their journey was over. They had reached Kashmir.

-ooOOoo-

They paused side-by-side at the entrance to the bustling airport both awed, once more, by the colors and movement of this rich culture. This was not the first time they had stood together on this spot, although last time Tom and Mike had been standing with them, Tom's hand lying warmly on Ryan's forearm as they gazed in wonder at the sights before them.

"So, where do we go from here?"

Ryan shook his head. It had taken most of Martin's resources to get them this far and there was still a fair way to go to reach the base camp set up for Vaughn's summit expedition. The fastest method would be by helicopter, but that would cost far more money than they had. Ryan realized they would be lucky if they could afford a fairly decent land vehicle, and even then they would have to walk the rest of the way with their heavy backpacks slowing them down. He faced Martin and gave him a reassuring grin before turning back to the busy street.

"Well... as they say... a journey starts with a single step... let's go find ourselves some transport."

Ryan took three steps forward and found he had to take two quick steps back to avoid being hit by a rickety old car that came out of nowhere. He laughed and shook his head.

"Least I'm still one step forward."

"You alright?"

Ryan turned to face the speaker, caught by the clipped British accent. He found himself face to face with an unfamiliar man who, suddenly, was grinning broadly, waggling a finger at him.

"Ryan Simms... and Martin Hilton. Graham Marks." The man extended a hand. "I assume you're here to join Vaughn's party?"

Ryan and Martin exchanged looks.

"Yeah, we're on our way to K2. So, what's the news?"

"Vaughn, McLaren and Annie Garrett have already started their final ascent. They're going for the top, but the news on the weather-front is not so good. It's been unseasonably warm, so there's more chance of avalanches, and there could be a storm brewing. They may have to turn back." The man glanced around. "Say, where's your transport?"

Martin spoke up quickly.

"Well, we've been waiting but it looks like a no-show."

"Hmmm, might be divine intervention. There's a supply run in less than two hours. Never know, you might be able to hitch a lift."

"Chopper?"

Marks gave another quick grin and gave a single nod.

"Be quicker than by land... and there should be space on-board if you leave some of that equipment behind for another run."

"Well... Lead on, my man."

Martin slapped Marks on the back and urged him forward, throwing a triumphant grin back over his shoulder at Ryan. Ryan smiled back then frowned. Divine intervention. He could not have summed it up more succinctly himself. Event after event was pushing him forward towards K2... and Tom McLaren. Arrangements that should have taken weeks to organize, maybe even months, had taken no time at all. All in all, it was hard to believe that less than a week ago he had been wearing a tuxedo, sipping champagne and calmly awaiting his benign execution.

He bowed his head at that thought. After Tom died the only thing that kept him going was the promise he had made, but he had taken risk after risk, both in adventure and with the Lottery, courting his own death... dancing with the scythe... until he was caught. He had always assumed he would die during one of those foolish adventures, so he felt less than happy but resigned to his fate when his face had appeared on the television screen as one of the so-called lucky winners. Assisting Wade in her escape attempt had been foolhardy as the penalty for being caught breaking the Lottery Law was days of torture before being allowed to make way. However, as stupid as it seemed, Ryan felt a whole lot better for making that decision, preferring to know he would die fighting rather than being led like a lamb to the slaughter. His Tom would have approved.

"Ryan?"

Ryan gave a perfunctory wave at Martin then glanced down at the equipment stacked high on the dilapidated trolley. He maneuvered it through the small airport concourse, following the two men towards the helipad.

-ooOOoo-

They were in the air when the news came, that an avalanche had struck the summit team and, by the time they reached the base camp, a rescue team was already on its way up.

"Any news on Tom?"

Ryan was frantic with fear. Had he come so far only to lose Tom without ever seeing him?

"Alive... but badly hurt. They fell into an ice cavern, and they're over 26,000 feet. You know what that means."

Ryan nodded at Marks, remembering the ascent on Everest, recalling the sluggishness of his oxygen-deficient body, the way his reactions had slowed, how his thoughts wandered. A happier image assailed him of dancing and hugging Tom at the summit, planting the flag that would tell the next successful climber that *they* had made it, that they had reached the top of the world.

"Happy birthday, Ryan!"

He could barely hear the words muffled through the thick layers of thermal clothing, could barely see those green eyes dancing in joy. It had been Ryan's dream, his goal in life; to paddle the Amazon, to cross the Sahara on camel, to swim the English Channel - to climb Everest - and all before his thirtieth birthday - and he had done it with Tom's help.

The descent should have been so much easier, gravity was on their side after all, but it was a moment of carelessness, a stray thought that took his attention.

Ryan gazed at the snow-covered peaks, his mind slipping back to the shock of the sudden tautness on the rope as the snow crumbled beneath Tom's feet. His body recalled the shoulder-wrenching agony as he tried to hold on, slamming his ice pick into the ice-covered snow again and again as he hurtled towards the crevasse, until it finally held. He was dangling over the edge, holding on for dear life, his fingers numb, his body aching. Below him he could see Tom, suspended above nothing. One hand left the ice pick to grab at the rope binding him to his lover, trying to pull it upwards, but it was impossible.

Tears filled Ryan's eyes and froze just as quickly. He couldn't help Tom that way. He let go of the rope and groped for the ice pick. He prayed he had the strength to pull himself up against the weight of Tom's body hanging beneath him, but all he could do was hold on tight to the ice pick, knowing his own strength would give out eventually.

"Swing! Try to reach the ice-wall."

"No! Let go, Ryan. Cut the rope."

"NO! Swing, dammit!"

They both knew Tom couldn't swing to safety, for they both knew Ryan's ice pick could not support the extra pull of his moving body, and they both knew that Ryan was barely hold on as it was.

"Promise me you'll live!"

"Tom!"

"Promise me!"

"Please swing!"

"Promise me!"

"I promise... God damn you, Tom. Swing!"

"I love you, Ryan."

"NOOOO!"

"You okay, Ryan?"

Ryan had closed his eyes against the sight of Tom's body falling, forcing them open to look into Martin's eyes. He looked out and saw they were approaching the base camp rapidly. As soon as the skids touched the ground, Martin was out and throwing the supplies from the helicopter. He looked up with a snarl.

"Come on. This commercial baby's built for higher altitude than that other. We can get a head start up the mountain."

Ryan looked across at the older military helicopter that stood close by, realizing that the rescue team would have used it to get them a fair way up. He nodded sharply and started shifting boxes as fast as he could. Meanwhile, Marks had convinced the pilot to make the ascent.

With the helicopter lightened, they jumped back inside and gave the thumbs up. Moments later, the helicopter had cleared the ground and was heading up the face of K2.

-ooOOoo-

"Can you go higher?"

Ryan shouted above the noise of the rotors, pointing upwards. The pilot was shaking his head, concern and fear filling his expression but, as his brown eyes met Ryan's, the pilot stared hard, reading the desperation there. Gritting his teeth, the pilot pulled even harder on the throttle, pushing the helicopter beyond its known limits, ignoring the increased shuddering as the rotor struggled against the thinner air. When it was clear they had reached as high as the helicopter could go without breaking apart, Ryan pulled his goggles over his eyes, ensured he had everything safely stowed about his person and sealed his Gore-Tex jacket tight. He started playing out the rope that they would use to abseil down onto the ice-covered slopes below then attached it to himself and gave Martin the thumbs up.

As he leaned out of the compartment, the strength of the biting cold wind buffeted against him, and the heavy tank of oxygen, strapped to his back, dragged him over the edge. Ryan held on tight to the rope, then he let gravity aid him in his rapid descent. Martin followed as soon as Ryan's feet touched the ice. Once he was down, the rope dropped, and they quickly coiled it up, slinging it over Ryan's head and shoulder.

Constant communication back and forth while in the helicopter had given them the location of the injured summit assault team but there was still one hell of a climb ahead of them. Ryan knew, also, that the chances of stumbling across Tom's party was pretty remote, especially as they had dropped beneath the icy surface, but he had the strangest feeling that he had more than mere luck on his side; he had divine intervention.

They had no way of knowing where the other rescue party was, but they knew Annie's brother, Peter, was part of it. Ryan recognized the name and knew Peter Garrett had been a good climber. He recognized one of the other names too - Montgomery Wick - and briefly wondered if the man had lost his wife to K2 in this dimension too.

-ooOOoo-

Tom struggled with each and every breath. He knew he had broken more than just his leg in the fall, he could feel the catch of cracked or broken ribs. He looked up as Annie held a cup of water toward him.

"I'm dying."

He watched her look away, seeing the pain in her eyes as she acknowledged the truth of his words. He sighed. He wasn't afraid to die. He had wanted to die ever since losing Ryan on Everest but he had made Ryan a promise to go on, and he would never break his word. Instead he had taken risk after risk, taking on the hardest climbs, shunning the easy routes in favor of those which offered the greatest challenge, but only with like-minded climbers. With people like Vaughn he had been more cautious, for their sake, and he swore softly as he remembered how he had allowed Vaughn to maneuver him into going for the summit against all common sense. He wondered whether subconscious thoughts of joining his lover in death had played a part in that lapse of judgment, knowing how the altitude could fuddle a man's mind.

With thoughts of Ryan, Tom drifted away from K2, his heart leading him back up another mountain.

It was only his promise that had kept him from letting go of the ice pick and following Ryan to his icy grave. He still had wonderful dreams of falling, of landing in a crumpled heap beside his lover... his beloved. In these dreams they would lie together, side by side, facing each other, touching, their frozen eyes holding only each other until the end of time. He remembered hauling himself back onto the icy slope and looking back over the edge of the crevasse, but Ryan was gone, not even a black dot against the whiteness to mark his presence. He had descended into the crevasse rapidly, uncaring eyes blinded by frozen tears, but he couldn't find Ryan's body, leaving him with nothing but a memory of laughing eyes and carefree grins.

"You have to drink, Tom."

He nodded his head, grateful for her caring presence and yet filled with bitter regret that Annie would die with him.

"So sorry, Annie. Should have turned back... sooner."

"Ssshh. We made our choices... all of us."

"My responsibility... for you... for Vaughn."

"You're wasting you're time - and our supplies."

The harsh words filled the cavern and Annie turned to give Vaughn a glare icier than the cavern they had landed in. With deliberation, she reached into her pocket and drew out a hypo, pressing it against Tom's neck. With his blood oxygenated once more, he became a little more lucid and reached out uselessly, in dismay, as Annie was roughly shoved aside by Vaughn.

"Stupid bitch. Don't you get it? He's not going to make it off this mountain alive." Vaughn shoved her viciously against the wall and went through her pockets, removing her two remaining hypos. He gave her a cruel look. "I'd best take care of these... so you don't waste any more."

Tom leaned back against the icy wall of the cavern, letting his eyes close, wanting to erase the sight of that callous man from his mind. He conjured up an image from the past, and smiled....

"Hey, Ryan. Got a present for you."

Tom flipped the package over to Ryan and watched, gleefully, while Ryan opened it. He grinned as the frown was replaced with startlement and wonder.

"Everest?"

Tom grinned. "I promised I'd get you to the top of that mountain before your thirtieth... and I aim to keep it."

He laughed as a body similar to his own fell upon him, knocking him backward onto the large bed they shared. He wrapped his arms around the strong frame, offering his throat up to the passionate assault of lips and teeth. Hands slithered beneath his T-shirt, stroking along his sides, tickling against his rib cage and he struggled harder. He giggled uncontrollably as the tickling continued.

"Teach you to tease me, Tom."

"No! No more!"

Tom used brute strength to roll Ryan beneath him, ending the assault on his ribs with well-placed kisses and caresses of his own. He grinned as a moan of pleasure filled the air and pushed up Ryan's T-shirt to expose the almost hairless chest. His mouth sought a nipple, sucking hard on the puckered nub, enjoying the feel of the body writhing and twisting under him. Tom ground his hips against his lover's, moaning in appreciation of the answering hardness that dug into his belly.

"Too many clothes."

His own voice had lowered, becoming huskier as coherency was slowly eaten by the building desire. He tugged his own T-shirt over his head then assisted Ryan in removing his, sighing in wonder at the feel of hot flesh upon hot flesh. He pulled back to lick and bite the firm chest, feasting once more on a hardened nipple, flicking the tip with his tongue as Ryan moaned, those agile fingers tightening in Tom's hair as Ryan tried to hold Tom's head in place. Tom broke the hold and eased up the bed, punctuating his words with kisses.

"Want... you."

"Then I'm all yours."

Tom pulled back until he was sitting on his heels and looking down at the prone body. He smiled, completely overwhelmed by the feelings of love and adoration he had for this man. He reached out, one finger stroking down the center of the lightly perspiring chest, dipping into the naval and swirling around the indentation until he had Ryan giggling like a small child. Ryan thrust his hips upwards, reminding Tom what lay beneath the cotton boxers that were straining towards him. Tom's smile widened to a mischievous grin.

"Pitching a tent down there?"

"Bastard!"

The hips ground up again and Tom took advantage of the moment to drag Ryan's boxers down over those lean hips, his thumbs sliding along the silky skin from waist to thigh. Ryan's erection sprang free and Tom could not resist the urge to lean over and trace a path from base to head with his tongue. A well-loved, bittersweet taste burst across his taste buds as he swiped at the droplet of precome, and Tom licked his lips to savor the uniqueness of his so similar looking lover. He rose to his knees and dragged his own boxers down, freeing himself from the confining material, relishing the way Ryan's eyes darkened in lust. He could feel Ryan wriggling, slowly kicking off his boxers, not wanting them trapped around his legs. Tom sighed. Once free of the restraining material, those long, lean legs widened, knees drifting further apart. Tom laughed when Ryan lifted his hips in invitation, giving Tom a wanton look, the tip of his pink tongue sliding over the desire-plumped lips.

Tom fumbled in the bedside drawer, grinning triumphantly when his fingers closed around the object he sought. With ease of practice he flipped off the lid and squeezed some of the gel onto his fingers.

Ryan arched upwards as Tom's fingers trailed over the sensitive skin to circle the puckered entrance to his lover's body.

"Yes!"

Another cry of pleasure echoed around the room when Tom's finger sank into the inferno of Ryan's body, thrusting in and out in time with the rising hips, and Tom was awed, as always, by the uninhibited display of passion by the younger man. He leaned over and captured the ripe lips, sucking gently on the luscious flesh before plunging into the heat of his lover's mouth. Ryan moaned, the vibration rippling through Tom, reverberating through his own mouth and down his spine as he inserted another finger into the hot channel. He knew when Ryan was ready, could feel it in the way the muscles relaxed, becoming languid and pliant beneath him. Tom removed his fingers and quickly stroked gel over his own aching flesh. He waited until Ryan was watching him, their eyes holding, before he plunged into the heated channel, groaning as the tightness engulfed him.

They rocked slowly, heads thrown back, breath ragged as sensation built on sensation. Tom's hand sought and found his lover's shaft, his fingers wrapping around the silken steel length, his hand echoing the slow thrusts of his own body. He sobbed as his impending climax loomed, wanting to see his lover reach completion before taking his own pleasure. He looked down into glassy eyes hazed by desire and knew Ryan was close. He could feel the ripples starting, the inner muscles clamping down hard, a cry spilling from Ryan's perfect, kiss-swollen lips as Tom brushed across that special place deep inside. Warm fluid coated his now rapidly moving fingers, splattering across the sweat-soaked skin of chest and abdomen as Ryan arched up in release. Tom continued stroking his lover until the pleasure became too intense then released Ryan, focusing instead on his own need. He was already so close, his body thrusting hard into the welcoming embrace. He froze high on the precipice then plummeted, falling for an eternity as he sobbed out his last breath before collapsing across the sweat-slick body....

The ghost of those gentle fingers brought him back to find himself alone in the cave with Vaughn. He watched as the callous entrepreneur approached, knowing the hypo held in his hand would not be filled with the oxygenated liquid.

"You're gonna kill me now."

As he recognized the final moments of his life, Tom started to struggle. He had promised Ryan he would never go without a fight, and he would keep that promise to his last breath. Tom's depleted strength was insufficient to stop Vaughn and the hypo came closer, lying just above his skin. His eyes widened when it was knocked away, and Vaughn with it. He gazed up expecting to see Annie but instead... Tom smiled, all his love shining through his eyes as he saw the face he had been praying to see since Everest, wondering whether his pain-racked body had not felt the prick of the fine needle; now truly believing he was dying.

"I knew you would come for me."

Tom smiled weakly as the angelic face of his dead lover leaned over him. In his semi-conscious state, he recalled the tales of others describing their near-death experiences, seeing their loved ones waiting for them, reaching out to embrace them and lead them into the next world. He had hoped it was true. For so long he had despaired that he had lost Ryan for eternity, their union severed by a knife on a rope. He didn't care if this was some figment of his oxygen-starved brain. Ryan was here, and they were together again.

-ooOOoo-

Ryan held onto his beloved, his eyes widening as Martin and Elliot Vaughn faced off.

"Is this how you killed Mike?" Martin chucked the air-filled hypo at Vaughn. "Did you murder him to save your own worthless hide? DID YOU?"

"Yeessss!!!" Vaughn hissed viciously. "He was weak... the strong must survive and I'm strong."

"You're dead."

Martin and Vaughn clashed, their fists flying, before grabbing hold of each other and falling, rolling over and over. Martin gained the upper hand, screaming obscenities into the bloodied face as he punched Vaughn over and over. An ice pick appeared in Vaughn's hand, and Martin cried out as it stabbed into his upper arm, sprawling backwards when Vaughn surged upwards. They both gained their feet, circling each other warily. Vaughn slashed at Martin with the ice pick but Martin managed to leap back out of harm's way.

There was a sudden movement, a shifting of the ice beneath all of their feet. Ryan held onto Tom, grimly, shielding his body from the chunks of ice that fell from above. He looked up in time to see a huge chunk smash into Vaughn, splattering blood and brains.

Martin dropped down beside Ryan, his icy breath ragged, red droplets of blood dripping through the hole in his jacket, standing out in stark contrast against the whiteness of the ground. Ryan released Tom only long enough to wrap a bandage around his friend then he returned to Tom, his breath catching in his throat at the stillness of the prone figure. His fingers grazed the stubbled cheek, stroking across the blue-tinged lips on a face he believed he would never see again until the day he died.

He reached out but couldn't find a pulse. A different kind of numbness filled him as he stared at the lifeless face.

"Is this it? Will this restore the balance? Were you supposed to have died by my side that day? Or was I supposed to have died with you? Is that why I'm here? To die with you?"

Ryan felt the blackness of despair taking hold of him then, suddenly, he saw the small plume of warm air icing as Tom let out a ragged breath. Ryan sobbed harshly, hugging the damaged figure closer, relief pouring through him. Alive. Tom was still alive. Martin caught at Ryan's shoulder.

"We need to get him off this mountain now... or he will die here."

Movement from the side of the cavern caught their attention and they saw Annie Garrett's exhausted form scrabbling through a narrow fissure. .

"How did you..?"

She stumbled towards them, her eyes wide and bright with unshed tears. He watched as she looked up at the rope dangling through a man-size hole that had been punched through the cavern roof, and Ryan could see the numbed shock in her expression. The crack in the ice had sealed after Tom, Annie and Vaughn had fallen through, leaving no visible sign on the surface. With insufficient rope to climb out, they had been trapped, and any hope of rescue had been slim to nonexistent. He realized she must have been trying to find another way out, hoping that one of the fissures in the walls of the ice cavern led back to the surface.

Ryan thought back to his own journey across the icy mountain.

They had been following the ridge, assuming that Tom's party would have done the same, when the ice had shifted beneath Ryan's feet, sending him tumbling. He had ended up face down in the hardened snow and when he opened his eyes he had realized that he was seeing light filtering up through a tiny crack in the ice. Shock and disbelief had held him for a moment but he pushed it aside and started to dig, gouging at the thick layer of ice with his ice pick. Martin had joined him and together they had made a hole large enough for a man to climb through. All the while, Ryan had refused to dwell on the massive odds of finding the missing party, just a single phrase passing through his head; divine intervention.

She gasped in horror as she caught sight of Vaughn's bloodied corpse, wrapping her arms around Martin. Martin groaned when Annie hugged him, his arm hanging uselessly by his side. He turned to Ryan with a serious expression, glanced at the rope then back at his friend.

"Ain't gonna be much help getting us out of here."

Ryan nodded, licking his cold lips, knowing it would be up to him to try to save them all.

-ooOOoo-

Between them, Annie and Ryan managed to pull Tom and Martin up and out of the ice cavern. They lay Tom down beside the edge, looking out across the unrelenting field of white and gulping the last of the oxygen from the cylinder Ryan had carried. Ryan could see the terrible exhaustion in Annie's face and knew she could go no further. He sat her beside the others, his thoughts going out to the other rescue party, aware that they might be close by, but then he remembered that they could easily miss them in this bleak landscape. An image came to him, the dark red droplets of Martin's blood against the crisp, white ice and snow.

"I have an idea."

Ryan descended back into the cavern and, tightening his mouth against the gruesome but necessary task, he bared then slashed at Vaughn, capturing the free-flowing blood in a pot. He tried to seal the pot as best he could as he climbed back up to the surface, but blood splashed out as he pushed it onto the lip above. He wiped it from his face with the back of his glove then hauled himself up the last few feet. Ryan splashed the blood over the ice and snow then sat down, dragging Tom into his arms. He would wait only an hour. If no-one came by then they would have to try to get down by themselves, but Ryan knew, from bitter experience, that a descent could be a fatal as the climb, especially as three of them were either injured or too exhausted to be of much assistance.

When he looked across at Annie he realized she had fallen sideways. He checked and found her unconscious. Martin gave him a desperate look to which Ryan responded to with a grimace. The odds of getting Tom off K2 alive were diminishing with every passing minute.

-ooOOoo-

The rest was strangely anticlimactic. Vaughn's blood had been spotted, leading the remnants of the rag tag rescue team to their location. Ryan watched as Peter Garrett knelt down beside his unconscious sister, unable to see the expression on his face but knowing, from his body language, that he was overcome with relief that he had found Annie alive. Between them they rigged up stretchers to carry the unconscious Annie and injured Tom off the mountain. For the most part, Martin would be able to walk.

The journey down was uneventful except for the gnawing in Ryan's gut that they would reach safety only to find that Tom had died. He sheltered Tom with his own body as they descended to an elevation that the helicopter could reach, then shielded him as the downward draft of its rotors churned up the snow into flurries that stung their faces. Once the skids were low enough, they clambered inside, dragging the injured in with them.

Inside the compartment of the helicopter, Ryan pulled back the brown Gore-Tex hood and mask protecting - and hiding - Tom's face, and found two bright green eyes, flushed with pain and fever, shining back at him. A tentative smile formed on the blue-tinged, cracked lips.

"I'm... still dreaming, Ryan... don't let them... wake me up. Don't ever... leave me again."

The hand gripping his own tightened but Ryan could feel the lack of strength in the fingers. He pulled off his glove using his teeth, and caressed the cold face with equally cold fingers, his heart breaking as he watched Tom drifting away once more.

"No. I won't believe I've come all this way just to watch you die again. You have to live, Tom. I won't promise to stay behind this time. I won't go on alone."

The helicopter kept flying, straight and true, passing over the base camp, over the foothills and on towards the nearest medical center. Ryan held on tightly to his lover through the journey, whispering softly, making promises and offering reassurance, oblivious to the other exhausted and injured climbers sharing the compartment.

He talked of Everest, of how it felt to go on alone; the terrible agony of dying a little more each day. The reminders of what he had lost were constant; a face in the crowd, a thought... a sight that he would have shared with joy. He recalled the emptiness of a cold bed where once it had been filled with another warm body, the sound of a husky voice whispering sweet endearments as they moved together, flesh upon flesh. Even his own traitorous reflection in the mirror reminded him of Tom, giving him no peace of mind.

So few people had known of their relationship, they had been afraid people would see it as narcissistic or incestuous. Only a few people knew them well enough to see the differences between them, of body, mind and spirit. He recalled how many had thought they were brothers, or cousins, and neither he nor Tom had shattered their illusions. The Martin of his dimension had known the truth.

Ryan glanced up and caught Martin staring at him.

"He never stopped loving you, Ryan. You broke his heart when you left."

It was all Ryan needed to know. He could see the true depth of this Ryan's relationship with this Tom reflected in Martin's eyes, just as he had seen the love shining in Tom's back on the mountain.

The helicopter landed with a bump and Ryan could only clench his fists in dismay as Tom was dragged from his arms and rushed away. Hours passed before a man in surgical clothing approached the group. Ryan stood up and forced his way forward.

"Tom McLaren?"

"He is very badly injured... but I am confident he will recover." The doctor grinned. "He is a very lucky man. It is not usual for a medical facility of this remoteness to have a specialist surgeon, but Doctor Tennett arrived unannounced on a sabbatical only yesterday. Without his skill I would not have had good news for you."

"Yesterday?"

"Yes. There was a strange confusion and his papers were mixed up with another doctor's, but he decided to stay. Very fortunate confusion for your Mr. McLaren. The nurse will let you see Mr. McLaren once he is made comfortable."

The Pakistani doctor gave a slight bow and turned away.

Ryan slumped down into a seat, no longer surprised by the coincidences that had followed him since landing in this new dimension. When he glanced up, he thought he caught sight of a familiar face looking at him from the corridor beyond, the face of the strange man he had first met in a park near the Slider's wormhole. By the time he gained his feet and made it into the corridor there was no sign of the man, and the approach of a nurse toward Ryan made further searching impossible.

-ooOOoo-

Ryan sank into the seat next to Tom's bed, his hands reaching out to grasp the now warm fingers. He gazed across at the handsome face, seeing the ravages of K2 in the cracked lips. The long sable lashes, so like his own, formed a soft dark crescent, stark against the whiteness of his cheeks but, to Ryan, Tom had never looked more beautiful. He reached out to brush his hand through the close-cropped hair, noticing it was just a little longer and shaggier on top than Tom usually preferred. The lashes flickered against the pale cheeks, eyes opening, their brightness dimmed by fatigue, pain and drugs. Tom licked his dry lips and moaned softly, his eyes flicking around the room until they found Ryan's.

"Am I dead?"

Ryan smiled and shook his head at the croaked whisper.

"You're alive... and I'm alive."

"Such a good dream... I missed you, Ryan. Glad... together again."

Ryan brought the limp hand to his lips and kissed the palm, allowing Tom his delusion of dreaming, knowing Tom was far too weak to deal with the reality. There would be plenty of time now; for explanations, for rebuilding their life together. He wondered, for a moment, on how many dimensions there were, and his heart began to break for all those Ryan's who had lost their Tom on Everest, and for all those Tom McLaren's who had died on K2 at the hands of Elliot Vaughn.

He closed his eyes and gave a silent prayer of thanks that he had been given this second chance at happiness and, as if conjured up by his thoughts, Ryan felt a hand clasp his shoulder.

Ryan looked up into the mysterious dark eyes of the stranger, seeing a contented smile on the kind face.

"The balance is restored. All is now how it should have been. Live long, and be happy."

"Who are you?"

The man merely grinned and walked away, his figure fading to nothing before he even reached the doorway.

THE END


End file.
